


Fire and Fleet and Candlelight

by sixappleseeds



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Fluff, M/M, Not Hockey Players (Hockey RPF), Supernatural Elements, small magics, there is safety in community
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 17:42:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21165584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixappleseeds/pseuds/sixappleseeds
Summary: “But it is the first day of fall,” PJ said, carefully taping strings of leaves in Sid’s shop windows. “You know what that means.”“I’ll be careful,” Sid said. For some reason PJ considered autumn, and especially the month of November, a deeply unsafe season and saw fit to warn Sid about it every year.





	Fire and Fleet and Candlelight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Why_so_drama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Why_so_drama/gifts).

> Title is from the Lyke-Wake Dirge, a very very old song I listened to on repeat while writing this. I prefer [Pentangle's version](https://www.youtu.be/VT7CMAcBTew), though of course [The Young Tradition](https://youtu.be/Y3JyVHOq7PQ)'s a cappella rendition is a classic. 
> 
> Why_so_drama, I hope you like this! I tried to incorporate as many of your preferences as I could!
> 
> Smudgy and Lux, thank you as always for the feedback and cheerleading.

Sid was unpacking books from this week’s shipment when Dom hurried over, gesturing out the shop’s front window. 

“There’s a guy down the block walking a cat on a leash,” he whispered with the kind of awed excitement of a kid at the zoo. 

Sid looked at his employee, and then he glanced out the window. Sure enough, a man across the street was walking a cat. “I think that’s Geno,” Sid said. “He’s been coming to our open mics lately. He brings the cat with him, remember?”

Dom thought for a moment. “The catman,” he murmured. 

“Try not to let the customers know you give them nicknames,” Sid remarked. 

They watched as Geno, who was tall in a hulking sort of way, ambled along with his cat, a fuzzy little thing with a fluffy tail and a blue harness. A city bus passed, and the crawling traffic behind it, and then Geno was looking across the street at the shop. He must’ve seen Sid and Dom staring like the creeps they were, so Sid waved. Geno nodded once and kept moving.

“You have to train dogs to walk on a leash,” Sid mused. “I guess you can train a cat too.” 

Now that he thought about it, Sid didn’t think he’d ever seen Geno without his cat. He knew the guy spoke English as a second or third language, and he knew that at their last open mic Geno had read a poem in Russian, offering only a cursory translation before shocking everyone with the raw emotion in his voice. Sid had served Geno a few times at the shop’s cafe counter, and the guy always ordered the same thing: black tea and a blueberry muffin with butter and jam. 

“I like him,” Dom said with a nod, which meant that Dom would remember to be friendly the next time Geno visited the shop. Sid realized he wanted Geno to keep coming back, wanted him to feel welcome here. He made a note to stock some Russian tea, or maybe some sweets. He enjoyed doing things like that for his customers. 

A few hours later, as Sid tidied the shop before close, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen.

“Normal people text,” he answered, grinning. 

“I missed the sweet sound of your voice,” Flower replied. Music played in the background, something bright and tinny. 

Sid walked over to the cafe side to stack chairs on tables. “How was Hawaii?” 

“Unbelievable. Cher, I have so many pictures to show you.” 

Sid had seen quite a few already on Instagram, but he listened as Flower told him about the resort, and the beaches, and the food. It sounded like a nice place to visit, a world away from Pittsburgh and this dusty end of Lawrenceville where he’d chosen to make a home. Sid had no regrets about opening his bookstore cafe here, away from the up-and-coming areas of East Liberty and the Strip District. It was quiet where other places were flashy, but real estate was cheap and here he’d found a fierce little community of yinzers who were, slowly, welcoming him as one of their own. 

“So what do you say, tacos tonight?” 

Sid focused back on the conversation. “Aren’t you working?”

“Not til nine.” Flower bartended at a solidly decent taco place about two miles down Butler Street. Sid enjoyed eating there, but what he really enjoyed was Flower’s company. 

“Then I’ll be sure to leave at nine,” Sid replied. It had been miserably hot lately, the kind of temperatures that came with heat advisories, and business consisted almost exclusively of people buying iced coffees and teas from the cafe side of the shop. Sitting under some tiki torches eating tacos with Flower and his friends would be really nice. 

“Don’t worry,” Flower said. “I’ll only serve you lager. Anyway, isn’t this why you adopted a child? So you could relax after a long day of being a businessman?” 

Sid snorted. “Dom is my employee,” he said, not for the first time. It was true that Dom was a little weird when it came to people, but he was a genius with numbers. He’d earned degrees, plural, in small business entrepreneurship and accounting, and had lurked in the cafe for three months before asking Sid for an application. When he’d come the interview with what was essentially a business plan, Sid had hired him on the spot. There had been graphs. Spreadsheets, even, and budget projections. 

That was three years ago. Sid credited the success of Sam’s Place, his business and his dream, largely to Dom’s head for numbers. Sid knew books, and he was good with people, but Dom was good at making money. 

“He doesn’t come in until eleven tomorrow anyway,” Sid added.

“Whatever,” Flower said. “Come see me, after you close. I’ve missed you.” 

Sid smiled. He wandered back to the bookstore side, toward the dog bed behind the front counter. “Same.” He crouched and held the phone by his dog’s head. Sam, fourteen years young and not as energetic as she once had been, snored gently. “Sam misses you, too.” 

He heard Flower squawk something. Sam’s ear twitched, but she didn’t wake. Not for the first time, Sid thought about how he’d named his shop after her, and how appropriate it was that the shop’s logo was a drawing of her asleep atop a pile of books. This shop was Sam’s Place, and it was her home as much as it was his. 

“But yeah,” Sid said, standing again. “I’ll bike over in a bit.”

“Good. See you soon, cher.” 

.

August dragged on, so hot and so humid it seemed like summer could last forever. The flowers Sid had planted in window boxes out front needed watered every day, a task he delegated to Dom because he knew Dom wouldn’t forget to do it. Their iced teas and coffees sold very well, and Sid just left the air conditioning going in his rooms above the shop. Business was steady, at least. The City Paper did a feature on local bookstores, and included a very pretty picture of Sam’s Place, with its tidy shelves and flowers visible through the windows. 

It finally rained near the end of the month, and if it did nothing to break the humidity at least the flowers got watered. The door to the cafe side chimed. Dom was helping a customer with a book order, so Sid made his way across the shop. Geno stood there, just inside the cafe entranceway looking uncertain. He had the cat in his arms, its leash looped and dangling over his wrist. They both were wearing raincoats. 

“Is okay?” he said.

Sid realized he was staring. “Of course,” he said. “Welcome in!”

Geno blinked owlishly at him before setting the cat down and peeling out of his raincoat. Sid stationed himself behind the cafe counter, feeling caught. He’d slotted Geno into open mic nights, a brooding presence at the back of the crowded cafe, or else as the lanky guy who took his cat on walks. Seeing him here on a rainy Monday afternoon was so surprising Sid hoped he wasn’t blushing. “Sit anywhere you want. Can I get you anything?” 

“Just tea and muffin please.” Geno wandered over to a table in the corner and sat facing the room. It was Sid’s favorite spot, because he could keep an eye on the cafe side and most of the bookstore side from there. He was unreasonably pleased Geno had chosen it.

Sid grabbed the tin of Russian-brand black tea he’d bought. He had no idea what the label said, but the woman down at S&D’s Polish Deli had assured him, after some teasing over why he’d want Russian tea and not the obviously superior Polish variety, that this brand was popular in Russia. She’d then sold him a jar of strawberry jam, though that was, of course, Polish in origin. 

“I got this in the other day,” Sid said, bringing the tea over to Geno. “Do you want to try it or go with your usual?”

Geno’s eyes widened. He reached for the tin, cradling it in his hands and reading the label like the words were something precious. Sid looked away.

“Where you get this?” Geno whispered.

“The internet.” Sid wasn’t sure what reaction he’d expected from Geno, but it wasn’t this. He wondered if he’d made the right decision, trying to do something special for this man he barely knew. 

“_Why_ you get this?” Geno looked up, and suddenly Sid was glad it was a slow day, that only Doc Ridgley was here, grading papers at her usual spot by the window, and that it was only Dom over in the shop. Neither of them would notice whatever crisis Sid had accidentally triggered for Geno. 

“For you.” It seemed difficult to get the words out. “I wanted —” He shoved his hands in his pockets. He liked pleasing his customers. He liked caring about the people who came in here, liked welcoming them again when they came back. But for the first time it occurred to him that maybe he wasn’t thinking of Geno as a regular customer. “Thought you might like it, that’s all.”

The words were a lie, because that wasn’t all. That was only the start of it. 

He felt a bump against his shin. The cat was rubbing its cheek very gently against his leg, back and forth. Its plume of a tail brushed his fingertips. Sid looked back at Geno. 

“Dixi like you,” he said. “She very choosy.” His gaze softened. “Thank you, Sid.” 

It was the first time Geno had said his name. How could Sid have thought, even for a moment, that this man was just another customer? 

Sid took the tin back. “No problem,” he murmured. “I’ll get that right out to you.” 

So Sid made up a pot of black Russian tea, and set a blueberry muffin on a plate. Into two tiny ramekins he added butter, good local stuff that still tasted like meadows, and some of the strawberry jam. Teaspoon, butterknife, napkin, and if Sid arranged it all just so on a tray, well, presentation was important. 

Geno eyed the tray when Sid brought it over, and glanced up at Sid. Sid was relieved to see the pain in his expression had faded. Geno took up the tiny spoon, popped an even smaller amount of jam into his mouth, and grinned. 

It was the first time he’d grinned at Sid, too. 

Sid spent a long time at the cafe sink after that, washing mugs and waiting for his heart to settle.

.

August faded into September, and if it was still summertime-hot in the afternoons, there was no mistaking the way the light changed as the days shortened. Like it or not, autumn was coming.

Geno started coming by most afternoons, lingering with his cat and his tea and often an old laptop. He worked the breakfast shift at a popular diner down in the Strip, which wasn’t exactly a dream job, but, “Pays rent,” he shrugged. “Sometimes get free food too. Not so bad.” 

Sid wanted to ask him what he was working on, typing away for hours at his table in the corner. He wanted to ask Geno why he seemed so lonely, why he started coming into Sid’s shop of all places, why the Russian tea had almost made him cry. Late at night, long after Sid locked up and retreated with his dog to his apartment upstairs, Sid found himself googling Russian authors, and the best translations of Bulgakov and Tolstoy. One night he dove into an internet rabbit hole of Russian tea culture that culminated in researching prices for samovars. He then imagined explaining that business expense to Dom, and closed the tabs. 

Dixi, meanwhile, made herself quite at home in the shop, prowling between tables and around shelves with her leash dragging behind her. Geno had offered to keep her close and out of the way, but she so charmed Sid and Dom, to say nothing of their customers, that Sid didn’t mind. Anyway, she always returned to Geno when he called out to her. 

Until one afternoon she didn’t. “Dixi?” Geno called again, voice a little strained. Sid, unloading the latest delivery of baked goods into the cafe’s display case, looked up in time to see Geno almost knock over his chair as he stood up. He strode across the cafe. “Dixi!”

Sid snapped the lid back on a container of muffins and went to join him, just as Dom stuck his head out of the shop’s back room. “She’s over there,” he called. “It’s okay!” 

Geno looked around, then ducked behind the front counter. His shoulders slumped as he laughed. “Dixi,” he said, this time with exasperation.

“Huh,” Sid said. There she was, curled up on Sam’s back and looking immensely pleased with herself. Sam was, as usual, fast asleep. Dixi closed her eyes and purred, a steady rumble under Sam’s snores. 

“Dixi sometimes too smart for her own good,” Geno said. He crouched to rub his cat’s forehead. “Didn’t think she’d like Sam, because she normally avoid dogs, but dogs normally very rude according to Dixi.”

“Sam just sleeps.” Sam’s puppy self would’ve certainly offended Dixi, but that was so long ago now those memories felt like they belonged to a different dog.

Across the shop, Dom was smirking at both of them.

“What?” Sid said.

Dom just shook his head. “Cute,” was all he said. 

.

One bright afternoon, the bell above the door chimed. Sid spent half a heartbeat wondering if it was Geno, because it was nearly that time of day, and maybe Geno would stop in, and Sid could serve him black tea and jam and make him smile. 

But instead it was PJ, clad in a bright blue tracksuit, with neon green socks and tattered slip-ons. “Sidney!” PJ sang out. “I heard on the news that it’s the first day of fall, so I made you some leaves!” 

PJ had been one of Sid’s first customers, coming into the bookshop three days after opening, and one of his most loyal ever since. It was thanks to PJ that Sid’s open mic nights even began, and Sid knew it was PJ’s doing that they were as popular as they’d become. PJ’s approval was as good as a Michelin star as far as the residents of Lawrenceville were concerned. The cut-paper chains PJ was always making, block-shaped people holding hands, or sparkly snowflakes, or pink hearts, adorned only the shop windows of the most favored businesses. 

PJ held up several long strings of leaf-shaped paper, in orange and green and fluorescent pink. Sid laughed, and handed PJ a roll of tape. “We got some more paper in,” he added, as PJ bustled over to the window. “Some really great colors, I’ll show you when you’re done.”

Dom, though he’d been a little nonplussed by PJ at first, had found a supplier of single-sheet wrapping paper that was cheap enough for Sid to sell essentially at cost. PJ would use anything from newsprint to weekly grocery store mailings to make cut-paper chains, but for gifts, pretty paper was best. PJ liked to give gifts. 

“But it is the first day of fall,” PJ said, carefully taping strings of leaves in Sid’s shop windows. “You know what that means.” 

“I’ll be careful,” Sid said. For some reason PJ considered autumn, and especially the month of November, a deeply unsafe season and saw fit to warn Sid about it every year. 

“This year,” PJ said, voice falling flat, “I think you need more than that.” PJ wandered back to the center of the room. “Hold out your hands, Sidney.” 

Sid did so, and accepted a folded page of newsprint from the tote bag PJ always carried. The paper bulged in the middle, several smaller lumps under Sid’s fingers. “For your doorways,” PJ said. “From outside to inside.” 

Sid paused, parsing what PJ meant. There were the two front doors to Sam’s Place, one for the bookstore side and one for the cafe, and the two emergency exits at the back. Around the side of the building, off 54th Street, was the entrance to the upper floors, and then, tucked behind, the fire escapes for the second and third stories. Seven doorways. He unfolded the newsprint. There were seven cut paper chains, paper-clipped closed so they wouldn’t tangle or tear. 

“Any particular way I should hang them?” Sid recognized the shade and weight of the paper he sold in the store, but unlike PJ’s normal creations, each of these was exactly the same. Deep blue, small, round — Sid held one up. Eyes. PJ had made him strings of eyes.

“Just over your doors,” PJ said, wandering over to the wrapping paper display.

Sid moved to follow, saw Dom watching with raised brows and nodded pointedly toward the cafe side. Dom shrugged and went. “You didn’t give me anything last year,” Sid said. In truth PJ had been giving Sid things since the bookshop opened. But they were cheerful things, brightly colored, and usually seasonal. “Are these for protection or something?” 

PJ looked up at him briefly. “You had a really good year, Sidney. I’m worried the usual wouldn’t be enough.”

This was so different from PJ’s typical demeanor, somber and heavy, that Sid stood still, caught with uncertainty in the middle of his sales floor. The paper in his hands felt strangely weighted.

The bell behind them chimed, and Sid jumped. His smile was too wide as he turned to greet the customers, his step too big as he strode across the shop and nestled PJ’s gift on a shelf under the counter.

“Let me know if I can help you find anything,” Sid told the folks who’d walked in, speaking on autopilot. They murmured in reply and began browsing. Sid stared at the lintel above the shop’s door.

“These for today, please.” PJ had returned, hefting sheets of paper onto the cash wrap. They were normal-for-PJ colors, iridescent pink and tangerine and Day-Glo green. Sid didn’t find this as comforting as he’d thought he would. 

“I’ll hang those other ones tonight,” Sid murmured. The other customers were back perusing the YA and Middle Grade sections, but this didn’t seem like a conversation just anyone should overhear. 

“Have someone help you,” PJ instructed, meeting Sid’s gaze again. “That tall man with the cat, he comes in the afternoons now, right?” 

Sid told himself he shouldn’t be surprised that PJ knew his regulars’ schedules. He could feel his face heat. “Yeah, he does. I’ll find a way to ask him.” He bagged the sheets of paper carefully and handed them to PJ.

“It would be good for him too,” PJ said. “He needs all the help he can get.” 

With that pronouncement, PJ grinned, waved, and trundled out of the shop. Sid blinked, and then he stared at the bobbing flowers in their window boxes, the sunny day, and bright blue sky. A cyclist went by, and then a city bus. It still looked so much like summer.

It was easier to think about PJ’s potential matchmaking efforts, so Sid did. He’d lately caught himself looking forward to Geno coming by, that was true. Sid realized that some part of him settled whenever Geno was seated in Sid’s cafe, with his tea and his cat, typing away. 

Sid shook his head. It wasn’t the end of the world to have a little crush on one of his customers. No one needed to know. 

.

When Geno did step in, an hour before close and looking more tired than usual, Sid almost didn’t say anything. Dom had gone home and there was no one around to stop Sid from making an idiot of himself. But Dixi chirruped and trotted over to him, her tail wafting like a giant feather above her.

“Tea’s on the house if you can help me with something after we close,” Sid said, looking at Dixi. He knelt, and she butted her head against his knee. 

“Sure?” Geno’s shoes appeared in Sid’s line of vision. “What you need?” 

“Well.” Sid gave Dixi a few more pets and stood. “I need to hang up a few things...”

Geno looked at him, then barked a laugh. “And you so short,” he said. His smile transformed his whole face, every time, and every time Sid’s heart skipped a beat. 

“Something like that.” Sid smiled back. He wouldn’t act on this crush but maybe it was stupid to think he could hide it, too.

“What are these, Sid?” Geno asked about an hour later, as he stood on the step stool, carefully taping a string of paper eyes over the cafe side’s door. 

“PJ gave them to me,” Sid said, which wasn’t really an answer. He handed Geno another piece of tape. “You know PJ, right?”

“Sure,” Geno said. “Blue clothes, funny paper things, kinda weird, but nice.” He shook out his arms. “Smart, I think.” 

“Yeah,” Sid said. He picked up the step stool and led Geno back to the emergency exits. “Well. If PJ gives me instructions like this, I’m gonna follow them, you know?”

Geno’s smile was just this side of mischievous. “You smart too, I think.” 

They worked in silence for a while, going from doorway to doorway. Dixi followed them like a small, fluffy project supervisor. It felt both like, and utterly unlike, working alongside Dom or spending time with Flower. 

“Noticed you have rainbow flag,” Geno murmured as he stuck another piece of tape to the wall. They were on the third floor now, and almost done. “In shop window. Is why I start coming here.” 

The shop windows also had a “Stronger Than Hate” poster, one of those “We’re Glad You’re Our Neighbor” signs in three different languages, and a sticker by the door that said “Shoot Pucks, Not Guns.” 

Sid looked up at Geno, perched on the step stool. “I want this to feel like a safe place for folks,” he replied. Geno stared steadily at the paper chain he was taping, but in the bright light of the hall, Sid could see his ears were pink. 

“I know a sign in the window’s not enough,” Sid continued. “But it can be hard, you know, to tell which places are welcoming and which aren’t. I guess I didn’t want anyone to wonder, with the shop.” 

Now Geno looked at him. On the stool he was feet taller than Sid, and he smiled, something small and secret. “Always feel welcome here, Sid,” Geno whispered. “More than symbols in window,” he waved a hand, “from first time I come I know this place is good. You make it good.” 

Sid looked away, stared at Dixi who stared at him back. “Thanks, G,” he murmured, feeing unaccountably moved. “Geno. Means a lot, to hear that.” 

.

Pumpkins appeared alongside the mums on Lawrenceville stoops as September faded into October. A cold snap shocked the rest of the leaves into changing, brilliant oranges and reds that looked stunning against both blue sky and grey. When Sid opened his curtains in the mornings, the fog from the river was so thick he couldn’t see across the street. Autumn had well and truly arrived.

Sam’s Place hosted a popular author for a signing at the beginning of the month, and a book club a few nights after that. Business was good, both for the cafe and the shop. More than once Sid caught Dom smiling at the office computer as he worked through their budget goals and projections. They were hoping to eventually turn the third floor of the building into an event space, and Dom was squirreling away every extra penny into their Repair The Elevator fund. 

Sid suggested that they host an open mic night on Halloween, and Dom nodded thoughtfully. The next day, Sid found the shop’s chalkboard sidewalk sign adorned with spooky letters advertising the event. Dom had even sketched in a few fluttering bats and a sickle moon. Sid laughed when he spotted the plastic skeletons in the flower boxes, peering out from behind the mums, and Dom looked pleased. 

The night was a resounding success. Several people came in costume, and PJ cheerfully distributed ghost-shaped paper chains to everyone who’d take them. Doc Ridgley gave a dramatic recitation of Poe’s “The Raven,” and someone else sang a rather bloody folk song about patricide. 

When Geno walked in, Sid grinned before he could help himself. He waved when Geno caught his eye and did his best to look calm as Geno threaded his way over. He had Dixi in his arms. She was wearing a tiny bandana with pumpkins on it.

“Happy Halloween, Sid,” Geno said. “What you dressed as?” 

Sid looked down at his clothing. He’d found an orange sweatshirt at the thrift store and paired it with black jeans. “Let’s say I’m a Reese’s Cup.” 

“Good, my favorite.” Geno’s eyes were dancing. 

“Hello, hello, nice to finally meet you.” Flower sidled between the two of them, a cup of apple cider in one hand and a giant cookie in the other. Glow-in-the-dark ghosts bobbed from a headband he’d found somewhere. He looked Geno up and down, then turned to Sid. “He’ll do.” 

Geno blinked and Sid rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t require your approval,” Sid told Flower. 

Flower shrugged, making the ghosts sway. “I know, but I like to give it anyway.” He turned back to Geno. “Cute cat,” he said. “Sid needs a man with a cat in his life.” Then he darted back through the crowds before Sid could toss the cider all over Flower’s head.

Sid looked at Geno, who grinned. “My friends still in Russia, but they tease me the same way. I’m not mind.” 

“Tell me if you start to mind,” Sid said. “Flower likes to be goofy, but he’ll stop if it makes you uncomfortable.” 

“Okay,” Geno agreed. He gazed around for a moment, then turned back to Sid. “Is nice party, though. Glad I come.” 

Sid looked around too, at the dozens of people gathered — familiar faces from around the neighborhood, and new faces too. He saw a cluster of teens, parents with small kids, and a few old folks. Dom was emceeing for the open mic, and in between acts people mingled, drinking cider and laughing. It was dark already outside, but this place was full of warm, cozy light. 

Sid’s gaze stopped at the paper chain hanging above the doorway. They looked weird, incongruous with the rest of the shop’s decor, but PJ had nodded in approval and Sid didn’t have the heart, or maybe the courage, to take them down. Mostly he just tried to forget they were there.

“It is nice,” Sid agreed. He smiled over at Geno. “I’m glad you came, too.” 

Geno just gave him one of those small smiles Sid was learning to treasure, and turned back toward the room. 

.

It was gloomy already. Two weeks into November now and Sid was already done with winter, with its grey clouds and cold winds and not nearly enough sun. He sighed and unlocked his bike.

He’d been restless all day, and had gone down to Flower’s restaurant for a late dinner and company. It had maybe been a mistake to bike there, but when he’d stepped out of his shop earlier the evening was just miserable enough, blustery and damp, to make biking feel like an act of spite. He’d hoped the ride would help him work off some of the weird, itchy energy that had clawed at him all day.

He’d let himself linger at the bar, long after Flower had cleared his plate and switched his single pint of lager for glasses of water. It had been pleasant, in a way, to just watch the hockey game on the television as Flower mixed drinks and charmed customers. 

Sid regretted biking now. If he thought too much about it, he regretted leaving home at all. The wind had picked up, a cold front moving through, and it raced down the street with gusts that turned what should’ve been an easy ride into actual work. Sid was panting after half a mile, cold sweat prickling over his back. If he’d been worried about that second helping of guac, he was certainly burning it off now.

Then, just before Allegheny Cemetery and still about halfway home, his back tire blew. 

“Are you kidding me,” he muttered. The inner tube was completely flat; he must’ve gone over some glass without noticing. Sid sighed, tried not to shiver, and lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. It’d only get stolen if he locked it up here.

With the clouds low and dense overhead, the street lamps cast everything in an orange glow, well enough to see by, but now that he was walking Sid wasn’t sure he wanted to look closely. The nice thing about biking is that you were usually going too fast to worry about anything except the road ahead of you. Sid preferred biking. 

He turned up the collar of his coat. The wind batted his face and snuck down his neck like creeping fingers and he wished he’d brought a scarf, but there was nothing to do but walk onward. He thought of his sofa, and his fireplace, and Sam waiting for him. Only another mile.

Honest superstition kept him from even glancing into the cemetery. If there was anything moving about in there larger than a deer, he absolutely did not want to see it. It wasn’t even the possibility of ghosts that bothered him. Ghosts, Sid reasoned as he pushed his limping bike along, tended to be fairly benign. On a night like tonight, the chance of seeing anything else felt a little too real.

At Stanton and Butler, only a few blocks before the shop, he looked around out of habit. During the day this was a busy intersection, and Sid had almost been hit a few times by drivers making turns. Tonight it was quiet. It occurred to Sid that he hadn’t even seen another car go by in blocks. 

Someone was walking up Stanton toward him. 

Maybe it was the night, so windy and yet so quiet that the presence of another person seemed surprising. Maybe it was the streetlights, and the way they cast the figure’s features entirely in shadow. Maybe it was the sound, unreasonably loud over the wind, of boots scraping against the pavement.

Maybe it was benign, like a deer, or a ghost. 

The boots scraped on. 

_Step. _

_Step. _

_Step. _

Sid crossed the intersection as quickly as he could, and did not look down the street again. Suddenly it was absolutely necessary to get home, get inside, before that person rounded the corner. With a kick of intuition he was not questioning, he broke into a jog. The bike rattled and creaked, bouncing clumsily along beside him. Sid paused long enough to hoist the frame over his shoulder and started to run, straining to keep his breath quiet enough to listen for footsteps behind him. It was imperative to listen for footsteps behind him.

Sid fished his keys from his pocket as he crossed 54th Street, the front door to his apartment just yards away. He heaved the bike down, was just sliding his key into the lock when he heard a heavy step, and then another, back up the block.

Something on the corner growled. 

Sid only just bit back a scream, barely turned it into a low gasp, hand on his unlocked door — and a streak of fur came at him, hurtling onto his shoulder. 

“Dixi?”

Dixi growled again.

Sid shoved open the door, all but throwing his bike inside.

The boots scraped again, horribly close now.

Sid locked the door behind him, Dixi still clinging to his shoulders, and then he did up the second deadbolt and the security chain. The light from his lamp at the top of the stairs was more than bright enough to see by. He realized Sam, upstairs in his apartment, was barking, something she rarely did anymore. 

The steps grew louder. It wasn’t a shuffling gait so much as a ponderous one, every scrape of heel on pavement deliberate. Sid waited, panting in shallow, quiet breaths. Dixi remained balanced on his shoulders, growling so low he felt it in his chest. 

The footsteps stopped. Sid froze. Dixi’s claws tightened, needles through his coat. 

He watched his doorknob turn. The door jerked. 

“_NO_,” he cried, pushing his voice through the horror that clawed at him like so much sewage. “Go _away_. You are not welcome here!”

There was a moment of awful silence. Dixi began to yowl, a sound which in ordinary circumstances would’ve scared the shit out of Sid, but now made him feel like joining in. Sam, upstairs, switched to the deep bellows she only made when truly upset. Finally, finally, there was a step, and then another, quieter now. The figure was moving on.

Dixi muttered, staring fixedly at a spot above the door. Sid reached to pet her, then realized she was wearing her harness. One fear slid like sickness into another. He needed to contact Geno. Sid looked up absently.

Dozens of tiny cuts covered PJ’s chain of eyes. Where once the paper had been smooth and crisp, the shapes distinct, now they curled into shreds that wafted gently in the doorway’s draft. 

“Holy fuck,” Sid whispered. 

He started backwards up the stairs, to his apartment and Sam and maybe something like safety. “Let’s, uh. Not use that door again tonight, eh?” 

Dixi rumbled an agreement.

Sam hurled herself at Sid, whimpering and shaking as he knelt to hold her, and then licking every part of him she could reach. Dixi tolerated this for a few moments before she hopped down and stalked across Sid’s living room. Sid glanced over at his windows. The lower panes were Sam-height, perfect for the nosy people-watching she did when Sid was out, and months back he’d put her dog bed there to indulge her. 

Now the glass was covered with slobber. He’d heard her barking, but the evidence of just how upset she’d been chilled him. He whispered apologies and smoothed her fur until she settled. Then he pulled out his phone.

_Geno_, he sent on Instagram. _I found Dixi. She’s here with me at the shop_

Geno had told him about the account he’d made for Dixi, filled with frankly adorable portraits of the cat dressed in outfits or sprawling tummy up in grassy lawns. Sid’s only account was for work. He hoped Geno checked his Instagram more often than Sid checked the shop’s. Sid wished he’d just asked for Geno’s number already.

Before the screen could turn black though, his phone buzzed. He had one shoe off and Sam still in his lap. Despite everything, he smiled. 

_Sid!!!!_ Geno had written. _Here’s number please call is easier_

Sid took off his other shoe and moved to the sofa. Dixi curled on one side of him and Sam, after a moment’s hesitation, heaved herself up on his other side. She wasn’t allowed on the furniture, and they both knew tonight Sid didn’t care.

Sid pressed _call_. Geno picked up on the first ring. “Sid, is you?”

“Yeah,” Sid said. To his own ears he sounded shaken, and cleared his throat. “Yeah I was walking home and — Geno, it’s a weird fucking night, are you okay?”

“Very weird fucking night,” Geno agreed. “Was out with Dixi maybe one hour ago and she escape! So strange, it’s like her leash snap or something. I’m — very upset.” His voice broke on the words. 

“She’s here,” Sid said. “She’s here, she’s safe, I got her.” Dixi had started kneading at his thigh, purring so deeply it reverberated against the sofa. Sam heaved a sigh. “Do you want me to keep her overnight or do you want to —” 

“I come,” Geno said. “Borrow friend’s car, is faster.”

Sid felt better about that, too. Now that he was inside, in the cozy lights of his apartment with his dog and a very friendly cat, it seemed silly to have been so bothered by a stranger walking down the street. But he was soaked in cold sweat, and his hands were shaking. Ordinary strangers didn’t do that to him. 

“Pull around back,” he said. “There’s a spot off of 54th, right next to my car.”

Geno called again about ten minutes later and Sid went out the back meet him on the fire escape. The night really hadn’t improved. If anything it was even windier than before, whipping down the alley and tossing dead leaves and empty garbage bins with equal ease. Sid wasn’t sure that he’d hear footsteps even if whatever the fuck that was marched up his stairs. He looked around anyway.

While the alley behind Sid’s building was narrow and cluttered with creatively parked cars, at least Sid and most of his neighbors had motion sensor lights on their back porches and fire escapes. On a night like tonight, when it seemed like everything was in motion, the place was better lit than entire blocks of Butler Street. He didn’t see anything alarming. 

Geno emerged from his borrowed car, looking as wild as the night. Across the way, someone’s gate slammed, and slammed again with every kick of the wind. 

“Where is she?” Geno called. His voice cut a desperate note in the dark.

“Inside,” Sid called back. Where it’s safe, he did not add. He hoped it was safe. The sound of Geno following him up the stairs was nothing like the footsteps from earlier, light and quick on the wood. Sid decided this was comforting. 

“Dixi!” Geno cried the moment Sid let him into his over-bright kitchen. Sam barked, nails scrambling across the living room floor, but Dixi was already streaking toward them, howling and leaping into Geno’s arms. Geno keened in response, a long, low, heartbreaking sound, and he buried his face in Dixi’s fur. Sid walked out of the room as quietly as he could. 

Sam clambered back on the sofa the moment Sid sat down, and he knew that it’d be hell breaking her of this habit, but that was a problem for later. When she sprawled over his lap he burrowed his fingers in the thick fur along her back. She wiggled and sighed. 

Geno came in after a while, looking red eyed and raw with Dixi cradled in his arms. He settled on the chair opposite the sofa and peered at Sid.

Sam grumbled. Sid relaxed his hands against her.

Outside the wind moaned, impossibly loud.

Then the power went out.

“Hell.” 

“Sid?” Geno’s voice was tight. “We safe here?” 

Maybe there were safer places, but they weren’t in Lawrenceville. “Yeah,” he said. He made himself go look out the window. “Shit, the whole neighborhood’s out.” He glanced back at Geno and could barely see him. “It might be better if you stayed here tonight.” 

He heard more than saw Geno’s sigh of relief. “Not want you to think I’m coward but...”

“It’s a really weird night,” Sid agreed.

He was about to offer Geno the sofa when his phone started buzzing. Both of them jumped, then laughed a little at one another.

It was PJ. “Sidney, do _not_ go outside tonight.” 

“I’m inside, PJ,” Sid said. He was both touched and unsurprised that PJ had called, but maybe he’d wait until tomorrow to mention what had happened earlier. 

“Are you alone?” Fear made PJ’s voice half an octave lower than usual and much too loud. Sid held the phone away from his ear. “If you’re alone Sidney I am sending friends over to be with you. This is a really bad night.” 

“I have Sam here,” Sid said, then hesitated.

“Is okay,” Geno whispered.

“And Geno and Dixi are here too,” he added. “Don’t worry, PJ, we’re not alone.” 

PJ whooshed a sigh of relief. Geno’s teeth glinted in the dark. “Sidney, I am so, so glad to hear this,” PJ said, half-singing the words. “I am calling all my friends, and you need to call yours too, to make sure they’re okay.” 

“I will, PJ,” Sid promised. So he and Geno spent the next five minutes on their phones, texting friends. Sid felt a little like a dad checking on his kids, especially when Dom replied with just the eye-rolling emoji, but he heard back from everyone and that was what mattered. 

“Sid,” Geno said, after Sid had dug out the candles he kept in his In Case Of Emergencies drawer. Flower had chirped him relentlessly for even having an emergency preparedness kit, but then Flower had just texted him complaining that his own flashlight had dead batteries. Sid replied with a picture of the five cheery candles on his mantle. 

He handed Geno a flashlight. “I’ve got extra blankets in the closet. The fireplace is gas, we can use it, but with as windy as it is, it’ll get pretty chilly in here tonight.” 

“Sid,” Geno said again. Sid stopped. 

“Have Dixi’s litter box in car,” he said. “Food too. Can we...?” 

Was it ridiculous to love someone because they brought a litter box with them? It was certainly, apparently, possible. 

“Sure, let’s go,” Sid said. “I gotta take Sam out one more time anyway.” 

At those magic words, Sam heaved herself off the sofa with a thump and stood by her leash hanging near the front door. She wagged her tail expectantly. 

“Out the back, sweetheart,” Sid said. “Come on.” He lead them all down the little hall, past his bedroom and the bathroom and into the kitchen. 

“Dixi, stay here,” Geno said, and then murmured something very firmly in Russian. Dixi flicked her ears back and lashed her tail. 

His tone softened as he said something else. Dixi stared, and then launched herself onto Sid’s counter, minced past the toaster, the jar of utensils and the cooking oil he kept there, and seated herself by the small window over the sink.

Geno paused. “Usually would yell at her for be rude but...”

“It’s fine,” Sid said. 

They paused on the fire escape. Where before the street lamps and porch lights had lit the night, now it was so dark Sid couldn’t see across the alley. He looked at Geno. Geno looked at him, and shrugged. “Dixi need to pee,” he said. 

They waved their flashlights around. Sid told himself to be relieved when the beams didn’t pick up anything unusual. But there were so many shadows, it was impossible to shine a light into each one. Sid didn’t hear anything, though, not even a car. No boots, scraping against the pavement. This was probably as good as they were going to get.

Sam was tense, peering into the darkness with a kind of alertness that had Sid straining to see better. When Sid started down the stairs, she sat down on the landing and whined.

“You also have to pee,” he said, trying to ignore how every instinct was telling him to get back inside.

They regarded each other for a long minute. Geno waited too. Finally she followed Sid, one reluctant step at a time. By the time their little party reached the ground, Sid wasn’t actually sure Sam would do anything but haul him right back up the stairs again. Still, after a moment of sniffing at the wind, she squatted right next to the bottom step. She was definitely getting treats once they got back inside. 

Geno rummaged in his borrowed car and handed Sid a grocery bag. It clinked when he took it. “Food, and Dixi’s special bowls,” Geno explained, voice low. “She’s maybe little bit spoiled.” 

Sid grinned and adjusted his grip on the bag, holding the flashlight and Sam’s leash in his other hand. If it wasn’t so dark, maybe this night would be almost pleasant. It was definitely hard to beat the company. 

Beside him, Sam froze, her tail stiff behind her. Sid held his breath and listened. He heard the wind, he heard the banging gate, and then, just there, the sound of a footstep. Geno was bent into the car’s trunk, pulling out the litter box, and Sid heard another step.

“Inside,” he hissed. “Quick.” 

Geno bumped his head on the trunk’s hood, grappling with the litter box. “Someone coming,” he whispered.

“No one good.” Sam was already at the end of her leash up the stairs, crouched as low as she could get. Sid waited until Geno was ahead of him before hustling up after. At the landing he turned, and the leash bit into his wrist. Geno paused, one knee balancing the litter box as he fumbled with the door.

The batteries in their flashlights died. Geno cursed, Sam whined, and Sid blinked furiously, willing his eyes to adjust.

A figure hovered on the street below, distinguishable from the shadows only by the density of its darkness. It was staring up at them. 

“Fuck off!” Sid yelled, covering his fear with as much fury as he could muster. “Get the fuck out of here, you fucking creep!” 

He felt Geno just behind him, felt a hand on his waist, and then Geno was yelling too, furious Russian consonants that punched like fists. Sam started barking, her bellowing warning barks that made her sound enormous. One of the dogs up the block started howling, and then another. Flashlight beams shown from back porches and front stoops, cutting up the darkness, as his neighbors emerged to see what was going on. People called out to one another, checking in, making sure everyone was present and okay. Someone laughed, and someone else joined in.

When Sid looked back at the spot on the street, the figure was gone. 

“Inside,” he said again.

Geno picked up the litter box as Sid opened the door, and Sam rushed past their legs. Sid shoved open his apartment’s back door, where Dixi met them in the dark, tail raised and back arched, her fur standing on end. She actually hissed at Sam, who whimpered and ducked under the kitchen table. 

Geno murmured to Dixi and dodged around her to set the litter box down just inside Sid’s bathroom. Sid set the bag of food and dishes on the counter with a clink. He was suddenly very tired.

“I had an idea,” Sid said as Geno unpacked Dixi’s water dish and food bowl in the dim light. He didn’t know how to explain, even to himself, that the idea of going to bed alone tonight felt almost as wrong as that thing outside. As PJ had said, this was not a night to be alone. 

He lured Sam out from under the table with her box of treats — two shakes was all it took for her to come sit at his feet. 

“Yeah?” Geno was carefully filling the water dish, then he moved one of Sid’s placemats to the middle of the table and set the dish there. He did the same with Dixi’s food. She hopped up immediately. 

Sid gave Sam another treat. “I don’t know how you’d feel about it, and it’s fine to say no, but I don’t know when the power’s coming back and it’s already cooling off in here. It makes sense, in a way, to start up the fireplace and just, I don’t know, get a bunch of blankets together and hunker down there?” 

Sam raised her paw. Sid shook it and then gave her one more treat. 

“You asking permission to sleep with me, Sid?” Geno’s voice was warm. 

Sid tried a smile in return. “Well when you put it that way...” 

Geno’s mouth curved, fond and a little sly. “Any way you put, I say yes.” 

“Oh,” Sid said, pleased. It seemed, suddenly, much warmer in the kitchen. At least it was dark enough in here that neither of them could see if the other was blushing. “That’s good to know.” 

Feeling steadier, Sid replaced the batteries in the flashlights, dropped a few more votive candles into mason jars, and pulled out a box of chamomile tea from the cupboard. He started to light the stove with the long lighter he’d used for the candles but Geno waved him away.

“I make tea,” he said. “You make bed, okay?” 

They didn’t talk about what they’d seen. They would in the morning, maybe, or maybe they would next week. Maybe they wouldn’t talk about it until summer came around again, until the sun stayed up late and the breezes smelled like honeysuckle and nothing sinister lurked in the shadows, ready to follow you home. 

Instead, Geno steeped chamomile flowers in Sid’s biggest teapot, and Sid pulled all the blankets from his bed and the spare quilts from his closet and hauled them all to the living room, where he lit the fireplace. Between that and the candles on the mantle, it was almost cozy by the time Geno in, two mugs looped through his fingers and carefully holding the steaming teapot. 

They bundled themselves in blankets and sat on the floor, feet toward the fire and the sofa at their backs. Sid accepted a mug from Geno, letting the heat of it seep through his hands. Geno pulled his sleeves up over his fingers and cradled his own mug to his chest. He breathed in deeply.

“Would you mind,” Sid said quietly, staring into the fire. “If I took you on a date or two, before we actually slept together?” 

Geno snorted, a tiny, fond sound that did more to Sid’s heart than his smug flirtation earlier. He leaned into Sid’s shoulder. “Depends. Where you gonna take me?” 

Dixi made her way over to them, carefully inspecting each lump in the blankets as she went. Sam followed in her stumping way and collapsed with a happy sigh at Sid’s feet.

“Well,” Sid said as he let Dixi sniff his fingers. “How do you feel about dinosaurs?” 

Geno sat up. “There’s dinosaurs in Pittsburgh?” 

“I mean.” Sid tilted his head so he could look up at Geno. “Bones. And a really great statue outside the Carnegie Museum. Haven’t you been to Oakland?” 

“Not yet.” Geno’s eyes danced in the firelight. “You take me. Dinosaurs better than wine and dine date any day.” 

Sid took a sip of his tea. “Glad you think so, too.” 

Later, they slept, huddled under blankets and around each other, with Sam snoring at their feet and Dixi curled up by their heads. It was not the most restful night Sid had ever spent — sleeping on the floor was sleeping on the floor, and this haphazard bed they’d built was lumpy and cold around the edges. But each time Sid opened his eyes, there was Sam, and Dixi, and Geno, bathed in the soft glow of the fire. 

Once, Sid rolled over and found Geno awake. They gazed at each other as seconds slid into minutes, the night silent and dark beyond this nest they’d made. Geno blinked slowly. Sid wrapped his arm around Geno’s waist. He was warm, warm from his chest to his hips to his thighs, and it felt decadent and magnificent all at once. Geno smiled sleepily, then wrapped his own arm around Sid’s back to tuck him close.

Sid drifted off again to the feeling of Geno’s heart beating against his chest and a quiet determination to keep this man in his life for as long as he wanted to stay. 

.

The power came back some time before dawn. Sid woke enough to hear the heat kick on, and thought to himself that at least he hadn’t lost the food in his refrigerators. Evidently it was still out down in the Strip though, because Geno’s phone started buzzing at 5 AM. Sid woke again, this time to muffled shouting as Geno’s boss expressed her disgust with the electric company, the city’s infrastructure, and wind storms in general, before telling Geno to just not even bother coming into work. Geno made a few sympathetic noises before mumbling a thank you to his boss and ending the call. 

“I have to get up at seven,” Sid whispered. “I’ll make breakfast if you want.” 

“So good, Sid.” Geno wrapped himself around Sid like some kind of starfish and pressed his mouth to Sid’s hair. “Think sometimes about how I almost didn’t come to your shop, but then I did.”

“I’m — really glad about that.” Sid shifted closer. “I was thinking,” he said after a moment. “I’m hoping to hire someone, ostensibly for the holidays but Dom ran the numbers and we can afford to take on someone for maybe fifteen hours a week...”

Geno snuck his fingers under Sid’s shirt. “Asking because you need tall guy around, I see how is.” 

Sid smiled into the hollow of Geno’s throat. “That might be one of the reasons.” 

“I think about when more awake.” He sounded half asleep already. “Thanks, Sid.” 

“It’s not a favor,” Sid said. “I do need the help, but I wanted to ask you first.” 

“Can look at application later,” Geno mumbled. “Now, sleep.” 

“Okay,” Sid said. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of Geno drifting off and of Sam’s tiny, familiar snores. Dixi padded over Sid’s hip and wedged herself in the warm space between his thighs and Geno’s, and Sid could feel her purrs. He would make Geno pancakes for breakfast, or maybe just eggs and toast. Whatever Geno wanted. Sid gently pressed his fingers to Geno’s chest, to his heartbeat there. 

Outside, a city bus rumbled by, and a few early commuters. Sid opened his eyes to watch the headlights skirt across the ceiling. His neighborhood was waking. He’d call Flower today, just to say hello, and PJ too. He’d check on his friends, and his regulars, all the people he knew in this quirky community in the dusty end of Lawrenceville. Whatever they’d seen last night, whatever that thing was, it wasn’t stronger than this. Sid fell asleep again, surrounded by ones he loved and bolstered by the certainty that whatever was out there, they would face it together.

**Author's Note:**

> Sam's Place is based on what used to be Nine Stories, a bookstore cafe on the corner of Butler and 54th Streets that recently closed. 
> 
> Notes about the signs in the shop's windows:
> 
> \- Many Pittsburgh businesses and residences have some version of a [Stronger Than Hate](https://www.bizjournals.com/pittsburgh/news/2018/10/29/local-exec-stronger-than-hate-logo-shows.html) sign on display (tw: the sign was created as a response to the Tree of Life shooting on Oct 27 2018; the article I linked references that)
> 
> \- [This](https://www.welcomeyourneighbors.org/) is the We're Glad You're Our Neighbor sign
> 
> \- [Shoot Pucks, Not Guns](https://www.thehockeybar.com/the-gear)
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! :D


End file.
